telekinesis

 

god, never let me read the world

without my hands. never let the light switch

without a flick of my finger. never let

the jam scraping over toast not make

my skin tingle like silver garden bells.

 

never let me be so lazy, that i begrudge

the fresh joy of scrubbing my vases clean

from mold and wilt, from filling them

with cold water for the daisies.

my palms are cupped like waves,

slushing soap mushroomed between

ceramic corners. a yellow petal

settles its head on the lap of my thumb,

sighing.

 

who came up with the idea that

there was a power more magical

than this, touching and moving matter?

 

 

 

arrival

 

september, you barely eased me in.

i gasped when your body fell on the back

of a crow. a shudder of ink-pen wings

sent you into a spill of rattles and rivulets,

like pennies falling on rainy sidewalks.

i saw there, tucked in between the branches,

my browned letter pleading for alms.

 

but when i opened my palm,

you cawed and flew off,

stranding me in all your

shivering grayness.

 

 

Eugenia Pozas is a young bilingual writer based in Monterrey, Mexico. Her first poetry collection in Spanish, Náufragos (Castaways) was published in 2022. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in SIEVA Magazine, Augurios y Pesares, and Kaleidotrope. Her poetry has also been recited in local feminist protests and slam poetry events.

 

 

 

 

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